Chapter 1

Adrian's POV

My voice carried clearly through Claire Mercer's office. She frowned as though I were the unreasonable one.

"Adrian, how many times do I have to explain this? Noah is Warren's son. I owe that man everything, and I'm not going to turn my back on his boy."

She tapped the consent form on her desk. "Sign it. Let Noah operate on your mother."

I stood where I was, hands curled into fists, and didn't move.

"So because you need everyone to believe Noah didn't get in through the back door, you're willing to gamble with my mother's life? If something happens to her, can either of you give her life back?"

My voice kept rising, and the anger sat in my chest with nowhere to go. Claire didn't even change expression.

"I'll guarantee him myself," she said. "If anything goes wrong, I'll resign."

She said it so lightly that my head came up.

Claire had always been ambitious; I'd known that for years. In a decade of marriage, our home had never mattered to her the way her career did. And yet for Noah she was willing to put all of it on the table.

I laughed, because there was nothing else to do with it. "Why don't we divorce right now? I'll be the good guy and give the two of you my blessing. You keep calling this noble gratitude, but you're one step away from—"

The slap landed before I finished. Blood filled my mouth, and for a moment my ears rang too loudly for me to react.

The office door, shut until then, swung open. Noah Whitman leaned against the frame, and when he saw the swelling spreading across my face, something close to amusement crossed his eyes.

"Adrian, how can you talk about Claire that way? You don't have to trust me, but your mother is in critical condition. Think about her before you throw a tantrum."

Years of being indulged showed in every word.

"I may only be a newbie, but I'm more than capable of performing this surgery. And if something does go wrong, maybe your mother's luck just ran out—"

I had his collar in my fist before he finished, ten years of swallowed resentment coming up at once, and I hit him in the corner of the eye.

That was what turned Claire's face to stone. She bent over him and checked the damage as though he were the one who'd been wronged, and when she looked back at me her eyes were ice.

"If you're angry, take it out on me. What was hitting him supposed to accomplish? Apologize. If you don't, forget the surgery, and your mother can lose her bed along with it."

Every word went into me like a needle.

Noah pressed a hand to his swelling eye, pushed himself upright, and turned a wounded look on her. "Don't be so hard on Adrian. I know he doesn't like me. Once the surgery's done, he'll understand."

The color went out of my face. "I never agreed to this."

My objections had never counted for anything with Claire. If Noah wanted it, she made it happen. She didn't spare me so much as a glance; she simply steered him out of the office. "Everything's ready. You can go in now."

Noah grinned and raised his eyebrows at me on the way past.

I moved to follow, and Claire planted herself in front of me, her jaw tight. "Adrian, I'm the director of this hospital. Asking you to sign was a courtesy. You can refuse to let Noah operate, but then I won't operate either, and nobody in this building will pick up a scalpel for her. Do you want your mother to die on the table waiting?"

She let go of me, her face blank.

"If you barge in there now and something happens to her, I'm not responsible."